Trip Down Memory Lane
by tromana
Summary: It was inevitable that Red John would find out about them sooner or later. Sequel to The Path Not Taken/Part Three of Notes on a Journey.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Trip Down Memory Lane  
**Author:** tromana**  
****Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary: **It was inevitable that Red John would find out about them sooner or later.** Sequel to The Path Not Taken/Part Three of Notes on a Journey**.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Spoilers:** Season Four  
**Notes: **This follows directly on from The Path Not Taken and follows a similar set-up in this universe-building. Also written for the April 2013 Monthly Challenge on Paint It Red

**Trip Down Memory Lane**

**Part One**

_12__th__ January, 2013_

There was an incessant knocking at her front door. Teresa Lisbon grumbled under her breath and instinctively turned over to block out the noise. However, the knocking grew increasingly louder and she got the hint: her visitor wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer. She glared at her alarm clock when she realized it was only seven twenty-three a.m. It was a Saturday and she wasn't even on call. There was no logical explanation for this disturbance and that was what troubled her the most.

With a sigh, she hauled herself out of bed and pulled on the bathrobe. Vaguely, she wondered it actually was Jane at her door, but she knew that was unlikely. He'd only left the night before and she doubted he would be back until Sunday. When she'd asked what he was doing, he'd claimed it was 'family stuff' and she didn't pry into what he specifically. However, she did have her suspicions. Regardless of what he was actually doing, it didn't matter. It bore no reflection on how they felt about one another and she always instinctively knew when he needed the space.

"I'm coming," she muttered when the visitor knocked once more.

Lisbon peered through the peephole of her door suspiciously, considering whether or not she would need one of her off-duty weapons. When she saw a man in a green uniform, complete with name badge and a hat to match, she disregarded the thought. Instead, she cautiously opened the door to take a proper look at him. In the distance, she could see a van bearing the title 'Lily's Flower Bucket', complete with a picture of a bouquet. At the man's feet was a parcel and it didn't take much for her to piece together everything she needed.

"I have a delivery for a T. Lisbon?" he inquired politely.

"That's me," she answered back swiftly.

"Sign here."

The man practically thrust the electronic device into her hands and tentatively, Lisbon picked up the stylus and obeyed instructions. All the while, her thoughts were running at ten to the dozen. Who would have brought her these flowers and why? What was the catch? Theoretically, she should have thought of Jane first. Since they had fallen into a relationship, he had taken to regularly surprising her with simple and elaborate gifts, however much she told him it was unnecessary. However, this didn't feel like him. She wasn't even sure why.

Dubiously, she carried the box inside and opened it up. There was a small note attached to them, but she didn't dare open it. Not yet, anyway. Her first concern was to see if there was any other catch. When she had decided that it was a perfectly normal bunch of flowers, she scooped up her cell phone, hit speed dial and waited impatiently for an answer.

"Good morning, Teresa. I'm surprised you're up so early-" Jane started, but she interrupted him quickly.

"Did you mail order me some flowers?"

"Pardon?"

"Did you send me some flowers because you're away this weekend?" she repeated, a little slower this time around.

"No, I brought you those peonies a couple of days ago," he said slowly, as if he, too, was mulling over this dilemma. "Aren't they doing okay?"

"They're fine. They're _beautiful_," she insisted, keen to make it clear she did appreciate the gift. "They are just opening up a bit now. It's just…"

"You've received some flowers?"

"Yes. Roses," she informed him, before adding almost as an afterthought, "red."

"Is there a card with them?"

His tone indicated that he had his suspicions as to who her mystery flower buyer was and she shuddered ever so slightly at the thought. She didn't dare vocalize who she thought might be responsible for it. Lisbon didn't even want to think about the repercussions. Deep down, she just wanted Jane to have bought them, despite the fact he had already given her some by hand a mere two days previously. Anybody else sending them had huge ramifications. That was especially the case if the person who bought them was who they were both thinking of at this moment in time.

"Yes," she eventually confirmed.

"Open it, and then call me back."

"Yes, Patrick," she answered back and rolled her eyes.

"I mean it," he asserted, surprisingly authoritarian. "And stop rolling your eyes."

Once upon a time, she might have asked just how he'd known that she was doing that. However, she had known him more than long enough to know that he'd work it out somehow. And besides, even if she did dare to ask him for the details, he'd never have given her a straight answer anyway. There were some things he had managed to teach her over the course of their working relationship – and in her personal life too – however, the vast majority of his tricks were beyond her. That wasn't to say she didn't appreciate the results or the cleverness of it though.

Lisbon bid him a quick farewell and plucked the note from the bunch of red roses. She allowed her fingers to run across the thick paper before she placed it down beside them. Instead of opening it straight away, she headed into her kitchen and started up her coffee machine. Part of her suspected that she might have wanted – or even needed – something a little bit stronger, but it was far too early for anything alcoholic. Ever since she had nearly followed in her father's footsteps, she had been meticulously careful about her alcohol intake. It was more for her sake than anybody else's though.

With her coffee in hand, she headed back to the table where she had left the flowers and note. Once again, she picked it up, as if her name written on the front of a folded up card would help identify the sender. She knew that the handwriting wasn't necessarily going to be that of the sender; usually it was a member of staff writing it down in beautiful cursive writing on behalf of the customer. After taking a sip of her coffee, she steeled herself, opened up the card and read what was inside.

'_I saw these and thought of you. I know, roses are a little trite, but I couldn't resist. :) __' _

_25__th__ January 1988_

Angela was out, working. She'd left him to clean the apartment alone as he had very little to do with himself. Besides, it provided him with a welcome respite from thinking about his latest failure at finding Teresa. It had been eighteen months and he still hadn't seen a whisker of her. The few articles that had been printed about her mother's death had supplied him with insubstantial information, but at least confirmed that she and her family were most likely still in the city. Even so, he should have known that it would have been like looking for a needle in a haystack when he'd first considered stopping in Chicago to find her. However, he had always been good at these puzzles and mind games. His tricks were what his dear old father had used to fleece money out of unsuspecting marks. Without it, he would have been little more than a nuisance to Alex Jane. Ultimately, it was what had stopped him from beating Patrick on a regular basis. They had to protect his pretty face; nobody wanted to see a boy psychic with a black eye.

Still, it troubled him that he was having some kind of mental block on this specific one. There was something which he swore he was missing out on, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

It also troubled him to think about where his relationship with Angela was going. Throughout his time with the carnival, she had been his only comrade, the only person there who had appeared to be talking any sense. When she'd suggested that they make their escape together at some point, Patrick had practically jumped at the opportunity. Who better to run away from his personal hell with than his best friend and confidant?

But, since they had started living in close quarters with one another, he could tell that Angela's perception of him had changed a little. There was something about the look in her eyes, the way she smiled at him when she got home from her waitressing job and her mannerisms that had clued him in on it. She had begun to fall in love with him, whereas, until two nights previously, he had never seen her as anything but the little girl he'd grown up with on the carnival. Patrick had always thought of her as being his sister in everything but name.

But then, they'd shared that kiss. And several more quickly followed after that one, too.

Now, his mind was a mess. He still wanted to find Teresa, if only to seek some semblance of closure with her. He even wouldn't have objected to waiting until she was of an appropriate age before they decided what to do. Comparatively speaking, he had spent very little time with her, but he had felt a connection, a spark with her. He knew that she was something special despite the age gap. And then, there was Angela. Patrick was aware that she had grown into a beautiful young woman; he'd have been a fool to deny it. He was also aware of just how close he had been to her for so many years now. In these past two days, he'd wondered just how much of the kissing had been led by her and her feelings, and how many of his he'd been compartmentalizing.

Or was he just hoping that he felt _something_ because he didn't want to let her down?

Suddenly, Chicago was beginning to feel a little too small for him. He was so used to living on the open road, having the whole of the USA at his fingertips. It felt like he'd been able to go anywhere and everywhere as he pleased. Even though his father had been a nightmare, had taken all of his money, at least he still had had his freedom for the most part. Or more likely, it was being stuck in one small corner of the city, with so few resources to his name. Patrick was beginning to feel constricted and guilty. While he had done a couple of psychic readings since they had left the circuit, it had barely been enough to put food on their table. Everything he needed, he relied upon Angela to get it for him. He owed her more than he could possibly imagine and she never asked him for anything in return.

Except for the kissing, of course. Patrick knew there was a reason behind everything, and that meant there had to be an explanation behind the shift in their relationship. However, he also knew he couldn't go anywhere with that without talking to her. It wasn't something he could figure out on his own. For a man who was so good with words, this was one area of expertise that he clearly lacked in. He could make sense of other people's relationships from just a single glance. But his own with other people? That was a whole other board game. He knew he felt deeply for Angela, otherwise he wouldn't have continually accepted her affection over the past couple of days. Even so, he knew he had to tidy up his memory palace, compartmentalize certain things before he could even think about dealing with it properly.

With a sigh, he started to straighten out the cushions on the couch and that was when he found the business card that Angela had given to him two days ago. He'd practically forgotten about it, what with his current dilemma and she hadn't pushed him to call the number either. Sitting down, Patrick scrutinized it, though it didn't say much. Joshua Redding, business manager. Entrepreneur. It could mean anything, really.

However, it also meant that he was going to be dragged back into the sordid game he'd been trying to avoid. Pretending to be a psychic had been his livelihood as a child, but he'd hated it. But Angela was right; what else in the world was he truly good at? And in truth, if he took enough control over his career, then he could make the right decisions. Help the right people instead of anybody who flung themselves in his path. Help the needy, the innocent, and the ones that truly needed his help. He didn't have to fleece people for every cent. He could just give them the hope they needed to set their lives back on track.

Without even thinking about it, he scooped up the phone and dialed the number. It was worth a shot. Wasn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I have to say I'm stoked with the response I got for part one of this story! I thought most people would have forgotten about this series by now. So, a huge thank you to: Guest, Guest, RavenClaw01, Miss Peg, MerriWyllow, Guest and Guest for reviewing part one.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Two**

_12__th__ January, 2013_

"But why would Red John send you flowers?" Van Pelt asked, furrowing her brow as she did so.

Lisbon sighed. There were reasons why she and Jane had kept their relationship as quiet as feasibly possible. Of course, it was mostly because of the omnipotent threat from Red John, but it was also partially because of the awkward questions that the subject also entailed. The team had always known that she was inordinately fond of Patrick Jane, but they never knew just how deep their feelings ran for one another. Worse, they would have been as oblivious as she was to the fact that he had been her childhood sweetheart, the one she waited desperately to meet year on year. It even took her by surprise just how naïve she had been to realize that Jane had been lying about the identical twin brother back in the day. Now, she had come to terms with it and accepted his motives. She loved him now and a part of her always had. After all, lying was an inherent part of his characteristics and if he hadn't, her father would never have allowed her to get close to him in the first place.

But none of that had stopped her from dreading this very specific conversation. Telling others in lieu of keeping it between the two of them made their current situation feel all the more real. She had always imagined that the day they slipped up, somehow, the secret would have inevitably leaked out to Red John. As much as she implicitly trusted the entirety of her team, the more people who knew, the more likely it was that something could have happened. However, it seemed that even their deathly silence on the subject matter hadn't been enough to stop Red John from finding out anyway. He had eyes and ears everywhere, in the places they least expected. They hadn't told a soul, but he had still discovered their secrets. Now, there was no point in keeping it behind closed doors; if anything, it had to come out in the open so that they understood the severity of her current predicament. It was still difficult, however.

It didn't help having Patrick Jane smirking beside her either. Of course, he had left this announcement to her; she was the boss, it was her _job_ to do it, apparently. None of the team was best pleased about being called into work for an emergency, but Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had all attended obligingly anyway. Nobody expressed their irritation out loud, out of respect for her, but she couldn't help but feel guilty regardless. They had better places to be and here she and Jane were, panicking over a bunch of plant reproductive organs. It seemed nonsensical, but then, anything to do with Red John seemed like nonsense anyway.

"They're having a thing," Cho answered succinctly, but the look in his eye suggested that he was both surprised that Van Pelt hadn't realized and that he wanted confirmation from them anyway.

"That's one way to describe it," she answered back wryly.

She steeled herself for criticism of hypocrisy and the like. She had been forced to take a stand on Rigsby and Van Pelt's relationship and ultimately felt responsible for them falling apart. Lisbon believed she should have fought Madeleine Hightower for their right to date – and had their relationship been revealed now that Luther Wainwright was in her post, maybe she would have done. Instead, she had backed down to bureaucracy and their love had fizzled out. But now, she was dating a co-worker, just as they had been. Just because the lines were a little more blurry, thanks to Jane's position within the CBI, it didn't make it entirely excusable.

But the criticism never came. Van Pelt smiled warmly, almost in relief that they had both managed to find somebody after so many years alone. Enthusiastically, she told them just how happy she was for them. Even after all of her relationship drama, she was still an eternal romantic – at least when it came to other people. Rigsby merely shrugged his shoulders, mumbling something about being pleased for them too; it was obvious he felt awkward talking about his superior's love life. Cho nodded slightly, accepting it now that he'd had the confirmation he craved, but one look in his eye was enough to see his concern about this development. Of course, it explained everything and that was why he was suddenly worried.

"How did he find out? If we didn't know…?" Rigsby asked tentatively and that was where Lisbon was at a loss.

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to put you in danger. If you knew, you'd have become targets too," Lisbon explained. Although it was partially the truth, she didn't want to offend them by insinuating that she didn't trust them to keep their secrets.

"Then why are you telling us now?"

"Because he knows anyway," Jane finally said, breaking his silence and actually looking serious now. "He has eyes and ears everywhere. We've kept our relationship behind closed doors, and yet, that wasn't enough. For all we know, he could be watching us right now."

Lisbon shuddered at the very thought. She cast her eyes quickly around the bullpen, desperately trying to seek out anything that appeared out of place. As she did so, she ran her fingertips across the underside of their conference table, trying to feel for any bugs. Before they had arrived at the headquarters this morning, Lisbon had already felt at edge. Jane's words had only served to make her feel all the more nervous. The flowers were a sign – she knew it implied that Red John knew about their shift in relationship status. However, the more important question was whether or not it meant she was his next target. Red John didn't want Jane to be happy, and obviously, she was counterproductive to his plans. What could be worse for him than losing his second chance at love? She hadn't dared to say the words out loud, but Lisbon knew that it would positively destroy Jane if he were to lose her in the same way that he had lost Angela and Charlotte. But she couldn't think that way; she was going to be fine.

In spite of that, Jane continued to thrash out ideas with the others while she drifted into other thoughts. She had to do something, had to be proactive about her current predicament. The last time she had suffered through a sort of living hell, she had made an important change. She left Chicago and the state of Illinois to reclaim her life. Now, she had to do something to save her chance of happiness.

All she knew was that Jane would _never _approve though. But, she couldn't see it working in any other way.

xxx

_1 February 1988_

Angela had been so proud of him when Patrick told her he had plucked up the courage to ring Joshua Redding. She had immediately thrown her arms around his waist, kissed him thoroughly and then insisted they went out for dinner together in order to celebrate. He didn't object; it was nice to see her so happy for a change. For the most part, Patrick had believed that his decision to leave the carnival circuit – and take her with him – had made her all the more miserable than if they had simply stayed and stuck with their lot. After all, even though she had objected to the treatment of marks, she had still been treated with the utmost respect. She was a Ruskin, carnival royalty. But, that tag also came with a price, an expectation and that was why she loathed. At least now, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and that was in the shining of her crystal blue eyes.

After dinner, they had ended up in the same bed as one another. Jane remembered the look of contentment written over her features as she slept in the early hours of the morning, the way the moon glow illuminated her pale skin. He remembered watching her deal with the elephants late at night, how at peace she had always been around the animals in the carnival. He wished he could give that to her all the time, but he also wished he could quell that little niggle in the back of his mind. A small part of him still didn't want to let go of Teresa Lisbon; it didn't matter that she was still (technically) a child. It didn't matter how little time he'd spent with her. They had a connection, and he was yet to be able to close the door on it.

But now, he was more nervous than he had ever been in his life. He hadn't wanted to go back into the psychic trade; he despised the deceit and the lies. However, after some in-depth discussions with Angela, he came to the conclusion that it wasn't always that way. In part, it was sometimes a case of exposing the truth through his deceit. People trusted the concept of a psychic because they understood what that meant. Reading body language, suggestion, intuition, trickery… they were things that people feared. He still felt uncomfortable though, but like his relationship with Angela, it was something that he could work on in the future. Besides, he was barely employable. His father hadn't put much effort into schooling him; everything that Patrick had learned, he'd picked up here and there. As a consequence, he didn't have many transferable skills, but this, this was something that he knew he could do without really putting much effort into even thinking. He had practically been born with these inabilities; they were innate.

First, he had to get through this interview with Mr. Joshua Redding. He sat outside the office. Patrick had spent the first five minutes scrutinizing the reception area, trying to pick up as many clues as possible about the owner of this building. He got a little information out of it – the man was proud of his achievements, but didn't like to gloat. He was financially secure, but preferred to invest his money in key pieces rather than go for the gaudy. He enjoyed power, but who didn't? Beyond that, though, it was mostly bland; it could have been the office for any type of business. In the end, Patrick resorted to shuffling slightly as he tried to quell his nerves. He wanted to feel useful again, he needed to escape this bubble he had allowed himself to get trapped in. Mostly, Patrick needed to show Angela that he could look after her, and that this was his way of proving it to her. He wouldn't let himself get sucked in too deep; he'd only help out the clients who really needed it. No more false promises for sick children who were inevitably going to die. No more persuading elderly women to include him on their wills. And no more compromising his conscience, like his father had done for all these years. Redding would hopefully be able to put him in contact with the right people to peddle his trade, but he would finally be the one in control of his career. And that, ultimately, was what he had always wanted.

Besides, it provided a distraction from Teresa. Angela was right; it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. The Windy City was a big place, and however long he spent trampling down Chicago's streets, it was still near-on impossible for him to cross paths with her. And anyway, Angela was a good woman; she had been a stable part of his life for so long now. She was good, honest and kind. She knew what to say and when, and how to push him in the right direction. It was about time he accepted what he had and moved on.

But he also had to convince Redding that his skills were saleable. A week ago, he had been horrified about falling back on them. Now, he was pinning all of his hopes of actually having a life once more on it. It was funny just how quickly things could change and again, he pinned it all on Angela. She had been the one to help him see sense. She was the one who got the contact for this manager. She was the one guiding him, just like she always had done. The woman had the patience of a saint.

In the end, he was distracted from his reverie by footsteps. The door swung open and a comparatively short man with nervous eyes, a shock of dark hair – showing signs of hair loss – but dressed in a smart suit approached him, proffering a hand as he did so.

"Mr. Jane? Thank you for coming," the man said and Jane noted the slight lisp in an instant. "I'm Joshua Redding, please, come into my office and we can have a chat."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I just want to say a couple of things before anything else.

1. This series is going to get a little darker for a short while. It's necessary to address what I need to address in this universe, though.  
2. I think that _Trip Down Memory Lane_ may end up being a touch shorter than _The Scenic Route_ or _The Path Not Taken_ was. That's the feeling I have right now anyway.  
3. The sequel to _Trip Down Memory Lane_ will (hopefully!) come along much sooner than _Memory Lane_ itself did.  
4. Have a little faith in me with where I want to go with this... please? I will eventually get back to the roots of the story as it was in The Scenic Route, but as the good Doctor says: _"A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting."_ Let's just take this journey together.

And for now, thank you to MerriWyllow and Guest for reviewing part two.

Until part four...

x tromana

* * *

**Part Three**

_13__th__ January, 2013_

Patrick Jane was sleeping by her side. Lisbon found herself almost entranced by the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet snores and mumbles he occasionally emitted. Then there was the fact that, for once, he almost looked like he was at peace with the world. She liked it when she could catch him in a moment of solitude and she wished that she could see him like this more often. After all, during his waking hours, he was usually so wracked with guilt about his family that it made her wish she could have saved him from all the heartache that his life had entailed. Things could have been so much simpler for them, and yet, fate had had something entirely different in store for them.

And, she suspected, there was still far more to come. That was the most worrying thing of all.

Moments like this, they were a reprieve from the daily insanity that was their lives. Lisbon was surprised that Jane had managed to snatch some rest at all. Despite the fact that not much had really happened today – beyond the flowers sent to her from Red John – the whole team had been on high energy and high alert. Then there was what happened just an hour earlier and her eyes fluttered shut as she remembered. He knew how to make her feel special, with the gentle caress of his hands, the use of his silver tongue in ways she had never dared to imagine and the sheer warmth and love he extolled on her. Physical intimacy had only served to deepen their bond and that made what she was planning to do feel all the more heartbreaking.

After all, they had only just rediscovered one another properly and she was about to sever that bond for a second time. It hurt her to know that, and she deeply feared what it was going to do to him as well. All that Lisbon could do was pray that it wouldn't set him over the edge. She hoped that Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho would be able to keep him on the straight and narrow until she had done what she needed to do.

Jane wasn't the only one who had dedicated his life to capturing Red John. Arguably, what she had done was for far more honorable reasons – she didn't wish the man dead (though she _did_ want him to see the death penalty) – she merely wanted justice. Contrary to his beliefs, she could keep some things a secret. Like the simple fact that she had been working on the Red John case, alone. Ever since their union, she had focused more on the case and it had finally gotten to the stage where her theories weren't just theories anymore. She had a list of suspects, and one name was right at the top of that list. All the evidence pointed towards him and Lisbon couldn't help but wonder why Jane hadn't been able to see the links. But then, he was too close and she was a comparatively fresh set of eyes. She could see the things that he failed to do so.

And of course, she hadn't breathed a word to him about this. She couldn't dare telling him that she had narrowed her own personal list of suspects for Red John down to just the one name. Despite the fact he was in love with her – and had even dared to tell her so on a couple of very rare occasions – she didn't entirely trust him when it came to Red John. Jane still hadn't said either way what his intentions were since their latest developments; he had always remained vague. The silence on the subject, naturally, made her feel all the more suspicious.

Lisbon couldn't risk losing him again. He'd slipped through her fingers when she had been just a child and as a consequence, she had forced herself to forget about him. When she had been first reunited with him – under his real name rather than a pseudonym, of course – he had been a broken husk, and she had tried to put the pieces back together again. Now, they were together and she was very nearly 'done' fixing him, Red John had essentially re-emerged and threatened to shatter everything she had worked on. During that process, they had appeared to forget about him to the outside world; Red John had decided to send them a timely reminder.

He hadn't even needed to kill to be able to do that. The bouquet of red roses had been enough to upset the fragile balance of their lives. She didn't have the flowers anymore; they had been taken to the CBI headquarters to be processed and preserved as evidence. Red John hadn't actually handled the flowers, but there was a chance that Van Pelt could find a break in the paper trails and bring them a little bit closer. She might even have half a chance of confirming her suspicions about the serial killer's identity, but she couldn't wait for too long. Lisbon knew that she needed to act and fast.

But, she had needed to spend one more night with Patrick Jane. In some ways, she knew it was a little bit selfish, but what she was doing was reckless and a little bit foolish. She needed this time just in case it really was going to be their last time. Her mind was still set though; Lisbon knew that she needed to do this to save Jane, no matter what. It was what she had sworn to herself to achieve. And she knew that he would hate her just a little bit for that, but it didn't matter so long as he was safe.

From the moment she had seen that smiley face on his attached note, Lisbon knew it was a sign: _you're next_.

But she wasn't going to be next. She was going to force Red John's hand, try and play him at his own game. She prayed that it would work, that this nightmare would finally be over. Only then would they truly be able to put the past behind them and actually move on.

Jane's grip around her midriff tightened and he mumbled something incoherent. She tensed a little and that was more than enough to spur him into some semblance of wakefulness. He blinked at her through sleepy eyes and smiled wanly.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

She wasn't sure if he'd believe her, or if her honest eyes would give her away. It didn't matter; she would be away before he had a chance to know what was happening.

It had to be this way.

xxx

_23__rd__ July 1988_

He stared around at the blank canvas that their studio apartment in Chicago had now become. As empty as the apartment now was, he also felt a little hollow inside. When he and Angela had picked out this place, Patrick had pinned so many hopes and dreams to the walls as well. Now, they were all gone, disappeared into the ether, only to be locked away in some small compartment in his memory palace. That was a place he wasn't willing to visit; it hurt too much now. He wasn't running away, he reminded himself firmly, he wasn't giving up. All that Patrick was doing was seizing an opportunity, making sure that things were right for both Angela and himself.

She was right; he had to stop living in the past. Only when he finally accepted that he had to let go of the past, would he then be able to move on with his life. Then, he would truly be able to give her the justice she deserved. Angela Ruskin had sacrificed so much to be with him, and all he had ever done was take things from her. Patrick knew that she only wanted one thing and one thing only: him. Over the past few months, he had reassessed his entire life and now, he was willing to give her exactly what she wanted.

And, again, it was all down to her. If she hadn't managed to get Joshua Redding's contact details, then he would never have considered using his skills professionally (and legally). They had thrashed out a deal that satisfied the both of them; Patrick Jane would continue to play the role of a psychic, but he got to choose who his marks were. No longer did he have to use and abuse the sick, the elderly, the frail, and the _vulnerable_. While it wasn't the complete abstinence from being a 'psychic' that he had wanted when he had initially left the carnival circuit, it was enough of a compromise for him to feel satisfied with it.

Part of the deal involved moving to California, Los Angeles to be precise. That was where the glitz and glamour was, ergo, that was where the money was to be made. There were rich people, happily living promiscuous lives, willing to throw money at anything and not all too likely to focus on the flaws between the lines. They had a thirst for the unknown, the afterlife and answers. If somebody could happily supply them with that little thrill and confirmation that yes, their husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other was cheating on them, then they would play big money. And even better, there was the distinct opportunity that he could go onto bigger and better things. If, for some reason, he miraculously managed to get into television with his act, then he would finally be able to provide Angela with the level of stability that she not only craved, but wholeheartedly deserved. After all, he had already put her through more than enough grief to last a lifetime, what with his obsession with a certain Miss Teresa Lisbon.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind him. Patrick didn't need to turn to know who it was; he could recognize Angela's footfall in a huge crowd of people if he had to. For years, their lives had been completely and utterly in sync. Nobody understood him the way that she did. In some ways, it was very reassuring to know that she would always have his back, but now it was also becoming more than a little bit frightening. He was still so young; he didn't know what the future would entail. And yet, he couldn't help but think – in spite of his cynicism for religion, for the afterlife and for fate itself – that somehow, their lives would always be intertwined. Maybe, this was what was always meant to be and now, he had finally accepted that it was time to stop fighting it. It was kind of like he was always meant to play the role of a psychic in order to make money and live.

Angela's hand slipped comfortably into his, and Patrick didn't object. On the contrary, he appreciated her support at this moment in time. This was a big change and everything had happened so suddenly. But, their signatures had been collected, Angela had a new – and far better – job which she was due to start imminently, and there was an apartment waiting for them on the outskirts of LA. Now, it was time for them to move cross-country. As much as he wished he could deny it, Patrick was sad to be saying goodbye to Chicago, especially as he had failed in his quest. A part of him wished he could see Teresa once, just to say goodbye. But then, that would just open up a whole new set of problems. Maybe it was just for the best that he slipped away unnoticed. Besides, she was just a kid. She had probably long since forgotten about him. It was highly likely that she had gotten lost in her studies, boyfriends her own age and whatever else. Besides, he had Angela now and he shouldn't have even been thinking about her anyway.

But this, this moment staring at his empty apartment, it was his goodbye. Silently, he promised himself that he would box her away and would no longer let her run riot in his memory palace. Otherwise, she was going to end up being his downfall, regardless of her lack of presence in his life.

"You okay?" Angela murmured quietly.

"I'm fine," he answered.

Slowly, he turned on his heels, and exited the apartment hand in hand with her. When he closed the door, Patrick realized that this was definitely the end of an era.

And more excitingly, it was the start of a new one.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Okay then, this is actually the penultimate part of Memory Lane. I knew it was going to be shorter, but still. I thought I should let everyone know.

Thank you to: Guest, Miss Peg, Guest and rpicard06 for reviewing part three.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Four**

_13__th__ January, 2013_

Running on very little sleep, Lisbon left Jane dozing in her bed. Her heart ached; she knew it was going to be the last time she saw him for a very long time. It was possibly even the last time she would see him at all. What she was planning to do was reckless and very dangerous. Whenever they had argued about his foolish plans, she had pointed out there was a massive difference between seeking out danger and sorting it out. Now, she was being distinctly hypocritical. But, she reminded herself firmly, it was a necessary evil. She had to take this risk if she was going to save Jane from himself.

Red John had sent out a message. The whole team had eventually agreed that said message was crystal clear.

Red John wanted her.

They knew why, too. She had brought an unexpected spark back into Jane's life. Hope where there once was none. When Red John had brutally murdered Angela and Charlotte, it was meant to destroy him, consume him with a quest for bloodthirsty revenge. Killing his family was far worse than killing Jane himself; it was something that would forever be on his conscience. Lisbon knew that. But, she also knew that she had reminded Jane that he had a chance to live, a reason to move on properly. They still hadn't talked about it properly, but she suspected that his ideas for revenge could have been changing. However, she was determined to do something about it before Jane had a chance to change his mind. She just didn't want the question lingering at the back of either of their minds any longer. All Teresa Lisbon really wanted was a chance for them to start rebuilding their future without fear about what could happen to one – or both – of them.

If her suspicions as to the identity of Red John were correct, then he could even have known about her – about their connection – for years. He could have been waiting until they rekindled their love affair before he took action. Only then would it make the loss unbearable for Jane. Involuntarily, Lisbon shuddered. She wasn't meant to mean that much to anyone, except maybe her brothers. She cursed at herself as she slid out of her SUV; she should have been able to resist temptation. They should have been able to wait until Red John had been resolved. Deep down, they had always known just how dangerous their relationship would be, even keeping it as quiet as they had done so. But still, they hadn't stopped themselves and now, they were paying for it.

It didn't take her long to reach Gale Bertram's office door. Abruptly, she knocked three times and waited patiently for an answer. Deep down, she felt guilty for disturbing Bertram during the weekend and a Sunday, no less. She was encroaching on his personal time and that was something she was loathe to do. As she stared at the varnished wood, she reminded herself that he wanted – no, needed – to hear what she had to say. Without his approval, her plans just wouldn't go ahead. Besides, it was Red John. He had already made it expressively clear that he wanted know any developments of case, at any time, day or night. Those thoughts still did very little to salve her conscience.

"Ah, Teresa," he said after he had finally granted her access to his private space. "You have something to tell me?"

Wordlessly, her eyes were drawn warily to the unfamiliar male man who was standing beside Bertram, still holding a manila file in his right hand. Bertram smiled warmly, and that took her off guard.

"Ah yes, Joseph Redman, meet Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon," Bertram quickly said before returning his attention to her. "Redman's my new personal assistant. I've never met a man quite as efficient as him. Thank you, Redman. That'll be all."

Lisbon waited until the man had left the office before she turned to face Bertram again. A lump had quickly developed in her throat but she swallowed it away. While Redman had been present, she'd been able to feel his eyes practically boring into her, like he was trying to work out what made her tick. There was something about his gaze that she didn't trust either. And then, there was his name. A small part of her mind was quietly crying out that it couldn't have been a coincidence. But, that was something she would work out for herself later.

"I have some leads I'd like to chase up on Red John."

"Oh?" Bertram enquired, raising an eyebrow. "And you couldn't do that without talking to me?"

"Not this time," she confirmed and took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm in a relationship with Patrick Jane now…"

"Please, Teresa, _everyone_ knew it was going to happen sooner or later. You were getting worse than Wayne Rigsby and Grace Van Pelt. But what does that have to do with Red John?"

With that, she paraphrased her plans. She wasn't surprised to see his reaction, one of sheer shock, to what she was saying. In truth, she had shocked herself by thinking it at all. Lisbon made it clear that Jane didn't know a word of what she was saying to him, that she had been able to keep a few things secret to him. And, once she concluded her monologue, she hoped that she had Bertram onside. She wasn't going to be able to do this without him.

"You really think that you'll be able to convince _Red John_?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I know what I'm doing."

"Hmm," he replied skeptically. "And what about getting out of this alive?"

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure about that?"

"No," she answered truthfully.

Bertram stood and offered a hand to her. When she accepted it, he enveloped her into a brief, awkward hug and let go of her as abruptly as he started it. He eyed her seriously and all she could feel was numbness. There was too much to be apprehensive about, she was relieved and she could practically feel her heart breaking already. She didn't want to do this to Jane, but she had to.

"When this is over, the CBI will have your back," he assured her, but she could tell that the 'when' was actually an 'if'. There were no guarantees in this situation; they both knew that. "All that's left to say is good luck."

"Thank you," she replied before turning her back on him.

By the time she was back at her car, she was shaking like a leaf.

xxx

_26__th__ April 1989_

As he headed to the jewelers, the money felt heavy in his pocket.

Patrick felt wracked with guilt. Not because of what he planned to do with said money, but because of where it came from.

For the past ten months, he and Angela had scraped together every last cent to get their first proper home together. It was daunting, the very thought of actually having a mortgage, but it was something that they had both wanted. California was a beautiful state and for the first time, Patrick Jane felt properly settled when it came to his relationship with Angela. There were no more distractions between them and thus, no more arguments. It made everything feel so much better. Moving to California had been the best thing they had ever done for themselves. And even better, now he felt like he actually had roots.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, however. As nice as their small Malibu townhouse was, he wished that he could get Angela a bigger home, one by the coast with nice sea view. Angela had always loved the sea; he could remember one time, when he was not much older than nine where she had claimed that it made her feel like she was free. And then, he just didn't get to spend enough time in it anyway.

Whenever he was away, Patrick found he missed Angela terribly. It was enough to make him realize just how much of a rock she had been for him, even after all these years. Joshua Redding had given him a relentless schedule of touring, which constantly dragged him away from her, away from home. As much as he liked meeting new people, networking and actually earning a living, he hated it a little bit as well. Of course, Patrick had never expected to spend all his time at home; Redding had made that clear from the offset. However, sometimes, this just felt like too much.

So, this was Patrick's way of proving to Angela that he was completely committed to her. He needed her to know that his eyes (and other miscellaneous body parts) weren't wandering while he was off on the road, doing his act. In truth, there had only ever been one other girl he'd ever been physically and emotionally attracted to and she was over two thousand miles away. And she was a lifetime ago too, for that matter.

Patrick's eyes quickly scanned over the display of rings and pendants while he waited for one of the jewelers to finish making a sale before attending to him. He had spent a long while haggling, and using his skills in order to make sure he got the best deal for the very best ring. Now, he had come to pay for the thing and pick it up. In equal measures, he was excited and nervous. This ring would hopefully signify the next step in their relationship. All he needed Angela to do was say 'yes'.

It wasn't long until he finally got to hold it in the red velvet box and admire it. As far as Patrick was concerned, it would suit her perfectly. Angela had actually seen a very similar ring – not quite as nice as this one in his honest opinion – in a jewelry shop shortly after they had moved over from Chicago. She had joked that she would have liked that ring if she was ever to get married and Patrick had made a mental note of it in his memory palace. Everything about their life in California, he dedicated to her. Whatever she wanted, she was going to get. Angela was going to have the perfect ring, the perfect home, the perfect wedding and the perfect family one day. All Patrick had to do was earn enough money to keep that promise to her.

But, even on their now-dual income, it was proving to be tough. He was slowly making a name for himself in the Golden State, just as Redding had expected, but for Patrick, it wasn't fast enough. The fact that he was being so fussy about clientele hadn't helped matters; in some occasions, he was turning away easy money because of the morals he'd set himself from the moment they had left the carnival circuit. He had a lot of making up to do to Angela and wanted to give her everything she deserved right now. This ring alone had cost him a small fortune, even after his expert dealing.

And, he was distinctly aware that it was also a little tainted.

He was never going to let Angela know how he earned enough money to pay for her engagement ring. In truth, he was still a little bit ashamed of it himself. When they moved here, he promised himself that it was going to be a fresh start, and that he wasn't going to do the things his father had made him do as a kid. But already he had managed to break that promise to himself and even knowing just how happy Angela was going to be with this ring didn't salve his conscience.

In spite of their first meetings, Joshua Redding had still approached him with the kind of clientele he would have felt guilty swindling money out of. In the end, he had given into temptation and accepted the offer. An elderly woman who has dying of cancer wanted to know if her deceased husband was waiting for her in heaven. Technically, it was an easy reading to do, especially when considering what she was hoping for and just how vulnerable she was. And that was the problem; Jane knew he had taken the money out of a sick woman's hand, just to get something relatively frivolous.

He could have waited to get engaged to Angela.

He could have saved the money until he had got it through (relatively) honest means.

But he wanted everything now. After all, Patrick Jane had always simultaneously been a very patient and exceedingly impatient man at the same time.

And this was one of things he simply couldn't wait any longer for.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** And story three of Notes on a Journey is done! I'll try not to keep you waiting for part four for too long.

Thanks to Guest for reviewing part four.

x tromana

* * *

**Part Five**

_16__th__ January 2013_

It only took three days to set everything up. With Bertram's assistance, Lisbon had managed to lay the trap for Red John and now, she was literally live bait. Brett Stiles had been informed of her 'decision', and he knew that she was surrendering herself to the serial killer. That meant it was only a matter of time before Red John arrived. She shifted on the bed uncomfortably; the thin sheet did little to cut out the cold and the bright light of a nearby streetlamp pierced through the window and over her body.

Teresa Lisbon wasn't going to be able to get any sleep anyway, but that wasn't the point.

She never expected this to be a comfortable transition. Lisbon had stripped herself of her cellphone, her car, her service weapon and of anything she could identify herself with. In her mind, she likened it to going under witness protection, but in reality, it was the complete opposite. She wanted something dangerous to happen to her, because only then would she be able to capture Red John. Only then would she be able to end this sixteen year nightmare for once and for all.

But she missed the creature comforts of her home.

She missed work.

She missed her team.

And most of all, she missed Patrick Jane.

What she wouldn't have given to be curled up by his side right now. Deep down, she didn't know if she would even see him again. She knew just how unlikely it was for her to get out of this situation unscathed, never mind alive. But, she had made the decision, she was in her right mind and was willing to make the sacrifice. If it meant saving him, then it was completely worth it. However, that wasn't enough for her to miss his witty comments, his smile, his happy-sad eyes and the way he just lifted her spirits whenever she was around him. Heck, she even missed the fact that he caused her no end of trouble when she was at work.

But then, their roles had been reversed right at this very moment. He was probably at his wit's end, trying to find her, pushing the team to their very limits and going down that slippery slope to madness again. Lisbon knew that she anchored him; even before the shifts in their relationship, she knew that he needed her to ground him. Without her, he would have lost his soul to the devil a long time ago. Instead, she had shown him that there was a life without revenge, he could still have hope and he was worthy of having love and being loved in return.

All of that, she had stripped away from him.

Lisbon clutched her necklace – the one thing she had refused to sacrifice – and offered a quiet prayer. She may have felt like she was a lifetime away from Jane, but she hoped that God would remain by her side. This was the one last thing she could cling onto, one way she could feel close to him. She had already lost count of the number of times she had prayed for Jane, prayed for her team, prayed for her siblings and prayed that justice would prevail. Lisbon hoped that Jane didn't realize Bertram's part in this plan, and that if he had, the director of the CBI hadn't buckled under pressure.

If Jane found her before Red John did, then it was only going to make this mess worse.

She sat up briefly, took a sip of water out of the bottle she was keeping beside her sorry excuse for a bed before laying back down. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, she hoped that sleep would take over soon. In spite of the lack of activity she had endured for over two days, she was exhausted due to an inability to sleep and her fraying nerves. She wasn't intending to put up a fight when the door burst open, but she still needed her mind to be as sharp as possible. After all, she was intending to try and talk her way out of a dangerous situation. While it was something she had obviously done on many occasions in the past, never had she been facing a deadly serial killer who only wished for her death in the past.

Suddenly, she felt something sharp pressing gently into her neck. She went to scream, but couldn't, and opened her eyes to see a masked figure looking down at her. He had already pinned her down and there was no chance for her to move, no chance for her to alert Bertram via the cellphone he had slipped into her possession two days ago.

"Now, now, Teresa, isn't this what you wanted?" a familiar voice asked.

With the knife still firmly pressed against her neck, the masked man revealed himself to be Patrick Jane. This time, she really did scream and sat bolt upright, shivering. It had been a nightmare, just a nightmare. She knew that Jane wasn't Red John; she knew that it was just her mind playing tricks on her. After all, she was more than aware of the fact he was capable – and had committed murder in the past. But he wasn't a serial killer, he didn't murder his wife and daughter. And Jane definitely didn't want her dead either. If anything, she didn't just try to save his life on a daily basis, he returned the compliment as well. Even so, it didn't stop the dream from being unsettling.

She lay back down again and tried to regulate her breathing once more. One day, this would all be over, she promised herself. This wasn't permanent; this was just an undercover op – of sorts – to bring Red John down from the inside.

Just as soon as she was about to drift off again, the door sprang open for real this time.

Lisbon was on her feet immediately, but three masked men had her surrounded. She was about to open her mouth, to tell them to take it easy on her but she didn't have a chance. Lisbon didn't need to be a psychic to know that these people were with Red John, and that this was the moment she had been waiting for. It made sense that he wasn't going to come and pick her up himself; why would he when she was essentially coming of her own free will? He didn't need to kill her right here, right now. He could pick and choose where would be most appropriate. At least the cellphone she had been fretting about was within her pants pocket, and she had surreptitiously sewn a GPS tracker into her bra, just to be sure. Bertram could keep track of her every move; he'd know that something was happening and if he didn't hear back from her within twenty-four hours of this, then he had to take action.

Half of her was surprised that this was happening so soon.

But she didn't really have time to consider it any further, because, after a sharp knock to the head, the world disappeared into an inky blackness.

xxx

_17__th__ August 1998_

"Don't screw this up, Patrick," Joshua Redding spoke, eyeing him seriously as he did so. "We've worked long and hard to get to this point. Shots at television only come around on very rare occasions. These guys think you have what it takes. This could be our chance to make a lot of money."

Patrick ran his hand over his slicked-back blond curls. He understood why Redding was getting stressed, but his mind was still partially elsewhere. Angela was due with their firstborn child any day now, and instead of being by her side and answering to her every whim and call, he was here. He knew that his manager had had to pull a lot of strings to get this interview with executives at a local television station, but he still couldn't help but loathe the timing. The only reason he was doing this was because he had a baby on the way. Like Angela, he wanted his firstborn child to have absolutely everything they could ever dream about. He wanted his child to have everything that he had to make do without.

And, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, this was why he was here. This could lead to them never having to worry about money again. This was the kind of stability he had spent years daydreaming about.

But he had to get through the interview and get the gig first.

In the past nine years, so much of their life had changed. They'd moved house several times, they'd gotten married and finally had a baby on the way, his clients were paying more and more money for his services and even though he was loathe to admit to it, he actually enjoyed his increased popularity. Patrick Jane knew that his name was beginning to mean something to people; he was a minor celebrity. If people knew who he was, then they loved him. A television deal would only serve to make him all the more famous.

That would mean more money.

More chances to pay back Angela for everything he'd done for her.

A trust fund for his child.

Security.

Idolization.

People stroking his ego.

Making him feel good about himself.

Pride.

Angela understood the importance of this to him; of course she did. That was why she hadn't objected to him leaving her alone so late in the pregnancy. He could see in the corner of her eye that she hadn't been entirely happy with the fact he'd done so, but she knew why he had done. She could easily have argued, but chose not to instead. The more he told himself that her lack of fighting back was due to her understanding and not her exhaustion due to pregnancy, the more he believed it. Besides, this would mean she would never have to work another day in her life. If she wanted to, she could spend all of her time with her baby, watch them grow. Wasn't that something that all mothers wanted?

Just as soon as he was about to go into the meeting with the television executives, his new cellphone started to ring. Patrick had adopted the comparatively new technology quickly; it provided him with an ideal way to keep in contact with Angela while he was on the road. He enjoyed the security of knowing that they could talk to one another whenever and wherever they were in the world. And this time, he was more grateful for it than ever before. She said just two words to him, but they were two words that changed everything.

"_It's time."_

He didn't even bother to apologize to Redding. Instead, Patrick left the man in a murderous rage. If he didn't know any better, he might have believed that Joshua Redding would have actually killed somebody. But, Patrick trusted his manager and could understand his fury. However, he knew he had his priorities right. A chance at a television career would eventually happen again. He wouldn't be able to witness the birth of his firstborn child on another occasion, though.

When he made it to the hospital, Angela was already in a private room. She hadn't been told to start to push, but she was already a good way along and clearly in a lot of pain. Patrick breathed a sigh of relief; he was worried that he would have left it too late. During the drive over, he had himself half convinced that he should never have bothered thinking about the interview in the first place. But, Angela had been fine when he'd left her with no indications that baby Jane was on his or her way. Her waters had broken only once he'd arrived for his meeting and she'd called him immediately.

The labor progressed smoothly. Patrick made sure that he said the right things, behaved in the right way and didn't object in the slightest when she tried to inflict pain on him. She was about to give him the greatest gift of all and that was a child. How could he even think about complaining? After all of his selfish behavior throughout the years – over Teresa Lisbon, over his career – she still kept giving to him. He loved Angela Ruskin-Jane with all his heart and nothing was ever going to change that.

But there was always room for a little more love. He knew that the moment he heard his newborn daughter's first pitiful wail.

And as he cradled baby Charlotte Anne Jane in his arms for the very first time, he made a silent promise to himself. He was always going to be there for her, no matter what. He wasn't going to let her down.


End file.
